To What Can I Compare Thine Eyne?
by EstellaB
Summary: A particular literary figure, now well known in Narnia, enters the canon, someone firmly in her sights. It is unfortunate, therefore, that she had never been a good aim. Warning: contains extravagant descriptive terms. Read with easily-accessible sick-bag


**A bit of silliness from me. I love Mary Sue parody fics, and I've always wanted to write my own. The thought recently occurred to me-there are so many unsung heroes-unsung by Mary Sues, anyway. Why not put them into a situation like that, and see how they cope? The first one is Eustace, because he is my favourite and the one who gave me the idea. Suggestions welcome-Puddeglum next... (cue wicked cackle).**

The sun was about to rise, as it tends to of a morning, and Eustace had woken very early and gone for a short walk to clear his head. They were about to face things far more terrifying than he had ever known before, and he appreciated the little oasis of peace, sitting on the brow of a small hill watching the dawn, and telling Aslan that he was scared. That time, however, was cut short by a cry.

"Help!"

Well, Eustace might not have been a king, but he certainly wasn't one to ignore a damsel in distress. He spun round... and he was lost.

"My love!" he declared, as he rushed to the aid of a breathtaking, pink-clad being who was struggling to free herself from a hedge. He took her hand (and announced that all the nymphs and dryads were dancing) and pulled her free. If he had been entirely herself, he would have been suspicious of her un-mussed hair (glowing, like the sun on the river, like a field of corn in harvest, like a tumble of autumn leaves, like the first snowfall of winter) and perfect clothing, but as it was, he gazed deeply into her eyes and wept at their beauty.

"I have found thee!" he exclaimed with a good deal of enthusiasm. "I have found love and life and perfection in thy wondrous being!" He turned several different shades of red in quick succession. "Thine ears are as... tiny mazes! Thy little fingers are as delicate as... as..." he struggled for a simile, and turned a deeper red. "As icicles!" he decided animatedly, and clasped both her hands in his, raising them to his lips. "What is thy name?" he asked, realising that he didn't know (it was impossible to imagine how badly this rended his very heart and soul).

"My name is Aranelliana," the girl murmured, eyes cast at the floor in an attempted display of modesty. Of course, _had _Eustace been in his right mind, he would have taken one look at the cut of her (sparkly) dress and realised that this girl had little to do with any aspect of _modest_. Instead, he gasped at the sound of her voice.

"A beautiful name! A wondrous name! 'Tis like the very waterfall of... of... over there!" He waved a hand vaguely, Geography not exactly his top priority.

Aranelliana, satisfied that she had got her man, gave up with the timid looking-at-the-ground. She looked up at Eustace rather adoringly, and whispered "I have totally loved thee from, like, afar, your Majesty." The penny didn't drop in Eustace's (clouded and besotted) mind. "Thy hair is black and thine arms are totally strong and hawt! Your eyes are like glimmering pools of... of... _mud_? Your eyes are supposed to be _blue_!" Aranelliana broke off mid-squawk, but not until her voice had changed completely. Eustace didn't notice, of course, still spellbound by her soft, sultry tones and not realising that the lark-like lilt was gone entirely. "Aren't you Peter?"

Somewhere in Eustace's brain, he murkily recognised the name, but considering that he could scarcely remember his own name, he cannot really be blamed for his inability to respond properly. However, as he knelt, and attempted to grasp her (soft, dainty, willowy) ankle and kiss it (and she was suddenly much less yielding than she had been a moment ago), something happened that didn't seem to be at all related to moonlight or rivers. A small, strong hand smacked him on the back of the head, and he tumbled over in a rather undignified way.

A few seconds later, the dazed (but not deterred) Eustace sat up (hoping to rescue his love from this intruder) to find a hideously out-of-proportion adolescent girl lying entirely unconscious a few feet away. She had, he noticed, particularly implausible hair, and unnecessarily fragile ankles. A rather ordinary, familiar face appeared above his, and he was quite glad to see it.

"What's going on?" he asked Jill, as she helped him to his unsteady feet.

"An entirely valid question," she replied grimly, not looking in the least amused. "Honestly, Scrubb, I can't leave you alone for a minute without you falling on your face."

Ignoring his wounded protest of "well _you _hit _me_", she took his arm rather roughly and pulled him away from the scene of the incident, before the troublemaker could regain consciousness. (Not that there was too much danger of _that_, she thought with some satisfaction. The perpetrator would probably be out of action for an awfully long time-after all, there were ever so many dangerous things roaming Narnia these days...) He was still quite bewildered, and he was about to carry on his protests, when Jill let go and ran back to the girl on the ground. Perhaps the reader will be forgiving if I here state that Aranelliana received a swift kick or two in her ribs.

"It's bad enough when you were after Peter," Jill muttered to the unconscious figure. "But if you think you can come _here _and infect _my _part of thecanon..." she left her threat unfinished. She stalked back over to her friend.

"After Peter?" Eustace repeated stupidly. "What, was that one of those thingummies? A Mary whatsit?"

"A Mary Sue," Jill clarified in an irritated tone. "Yes. And she had her talons firmly into you." As Jill shot him a particularly vigorous glare, the befuddled mess in Eustace's head finally cleared and the world righted itself. He flushed, rather embarrassed, but still found himself thinking that, though they weren't exactly iridescent pools of aquamarine loveliness, Jill's angry eyes were a very welcome sight indeed.

**Humour is not my gift when it comes to writing-but I have been wanting to do something like this for a long time, and couldn't resist any longer! Constructive criticism desired :) After all, if I never write humour, I'll never get any better at writing humour...**


End file.
